Sunday, January 21, 2018

The Walk for Life in Hemet, CA concludes at the Cemetery of the Innocent, a touching memorial with 3,000 crosses signifying the number of lives lost to abortion each day in the United States.This past weekend, I was honored to be the keynote speaker at a rally prior to the walk and was asked to share the written version of my speech.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s an honor and privilege to speak to
so many dedicated pro-life warriors.

3,000 crosses stand at the end of the walk today
providing a visual reminder of the devastation of abortion … something
else demonstrates it as well. We’ve all
been to vigils where victims are honored and remembered by a moment of
silence ... If we took a minute of silence for each baby aborted, we would be
silent for 112 years.

Alex Elle once said, “You’re not a victim for sharing your story. You are a survivor setting the world on fire with your truth. And you never know who needs your light, your warmth, and raging courage.”As Regional Coordinator of the Silent No More Awareness Campaign, I’m here to share the truth of what
abortion does and be a beacon of hope for the women and men wounded by the
lies perpetuated by the pro-abort community.

Each
time I see a woman entering an abortion facility my heart breaks because I walked through those doors … twice. I
was scared, confused, and felt I had no other options. I fell for the pro-abort rhetoric that it was
my body, my choice and that I was doing the right thing. Nobody
told me the truth.

Nobody told me there would be a
lack of compassion as I laid on that table … no one held my hand or offered any
comfort at all. No big deal. It was as
if I was just going in to have a splinter removed. The only smile I got was when I handed over
the money.

Nobody told me I would eventually realize what I destroyed was
not a blob of tissue or a clump of cells, but my children … and nobody told me that guilt and shame would follow me for
decades.

Nobody told me abortion could lead
to alcoholism and drug abuse. Praise God I’ve been sober for twenty years, but
for over twenty-five years, I was a
raging alcoholic…why? Because I had to
do something to forget what I had done and to numb the pain.

Nobody told me abortion leads to
unsavory behavior such as promiscuity. I’m
embarrassed to say I reached out everywhere else for love because I could no
longer love myself.

And
when I tried to settle down, nobody
told me I would sabotage those relationships. I had two failed marriages because I couldn’t
allow myself to be happy.

Nobody told me abortion leads to
depression. The same alcohol I used to
forget the abortions and numb the pain contributed to my hurting everyone I
loved, leaving me in self-imposed isolation, shrouded in darkness. I became suicidal and ended up in a
psychiatric hospital. When asked why I
wanted to die, I told the admitting psychiatrist I was already dead inside and
just wanted to finish the job.

Nobody told me abortion results in other
life-altering decisions. I lost the chance of experiencing the miracle of
carrying and bearing a child by convincing a doctor
to give me a tubal ligation at the age of 30 because I didn’t deserve to
be a mother

And
nobody told me that even
though I asked God back into my life, I would still feel unworthy. In 2006, while waiting to step into the waters
of baptism, I grew anxious and frightened.
Still carrying my secret, I believed the sin of abortion could not be washed away.
It might sound stupid, but I feared the water would boil, killing my beloved priest and me. Of course,
that didn’t happen, but while others rejoiced in their baptism, I was sad … I didn’t feel cleansed.

For
those in the audience who have had or encouraged an abortion - I understand the fear, the feeling of helplessness, the feeling of having no other choice and the anger held on to for
being misled by the pro-abort community. …you
are not alone.

BUT all is not lost. Nothing, absolutely nothing is unforgivable in God’s eyes. There is hope;
there is healing …. Your lives can
be restored and made whole. Abortion creates a gaping wound in our souls, but it can be sealed by asking for and
accepting the love and forgiveness of God, our children and yes, even
ourselves. If you are still suffering in
silence or know someone who is, healing programs are available. I have
information with me today, or you can
visit the Silent No More or Rachel’s Hope websites in the privacy of your own
home.

Another
thing I would like to address... One
in four womenhave had at least one abortion. They are our neighbors, co-workers
and fellow parishioners … and many have
been moved to get involved in pro-life activities while still holding on to
their secret. At several pro-life
functions, I have overheard statements such as, “I don’t know how anyone could
purposely kill their own baby” or “How selfish and heartless can a woman be?” I know those statements come from the passion
for saving lives, and not intended to cause pain…. but for one in four, they
do. When speaking out, remember the
fear, confusion, and lies that led them
to walk through the clinic doors. Let us all be loving and compassionate voices
not just to those who are seeking abortions, but to those traumatized by them
as well.

And we
need to remain vigilant in protecting not only the lives of the unborn, but the hearts and souls of those
targeted by the abortion industry or encouraged by other sources like the one
right in your back yard. It’s imperative
the Church of Scientology knows we are aware of their history of forced
abortion and that we are watching and listening. According to several former members who have
spoken out, this atrocious policy has now been exposed. However, we need to keep the pressure on to make sure the practice
does not continue in the future. No one
should EVER be forced to abort a child, especially from an organization that
claims to be a church.

I will always carry the
emotional scars of abortion but gladly display them as a means to share the
truth, give hope to those still suffering, to honor my little angels, Matthew
and Sarah, and to hopefully prevent others from destroying their lives and the
lives of their unborn children.

Thank you for being on
fire for life and for listening. God
Bless each and every one of you.

Thursday, January 11, 2018

I wrote this back in 2016, but thought it would be worth sharing again. Hope you enjoy my trip down memory lane!

The March for Life in Washington, D.C. is the largest pro-life rally
held on or around the anniversary of the Supreme Court’s decision legalizing
abortion in the case Roe v Wade. After getting involved with Silent
No More, I dreamed of joining my fellow SNM sisters and brothers at the
event, along with thousands of others speaking out for the sanctity of life. 2016 was the year my dream came
true. Not only would I be attending, but I would also be
giving my testimony … frosting on the
cake. After months of planning, I was ready to go.

A Story
Within the Story

Before leaving the comforts of home, I had a
decision to make. I had designed a jacket with an “I Regret My
Abortion” applique. With the current political climate, I didn’t know what kind
of reaction I would get if I wore it through the airport and on the
plane. The Holy Spirit made it clear to me. “Wear it with
pride. Sharing your regret is one of the reasons you’re going to
D.C., to begin with.” Throughout the trip (to and from) I got frowns, a few
smiles but mostly raised eyebrows. While standing in line to check
my baggage on the way to D.C., the girl in front of me turned around, saw
the applique and asked what it meant. I gave her a brief
introduction to Silent No More and told her where I was headed. She said, “You
know, I had an abortion years ago, and I
still wonder what I would have had, what he/she would have looked
like.” The look on her face said it all. I asked her if
she had ever attended healing and she didn’t know such a program
existed. Needless to say, I referred her to the Silent No More
website for resources in her area (she was visiting San Diego and heading home).
Had I not had my jacket on, she may have continued to struggle.

The flight to Washington was a breeze. I was
blessed to have empty seats next to me on the long flight which allowed me to
stretch out, watch continuing episodes of NCIS and munch on over-priced snacks.

I landed at Dulles International Airport, gathered my
bulging baggage and located the Super Shuttle kiosk. As I walked to
the assigned van that would promptly deliver me to the hotel,
the white stuff was coming down - but just in spurts. Being
from San Diego, I was delighted. After greeting my driver (I’ll call
him Joe) and two other passengers, we were on our way. Surprisingly,
the traffic was not that bad when we merged on the freeway, being rush-hour and
all, but about five minutes into the drive the white spurts turned
into a continuous shower and traffic slowed to a crawl, vehicles began

sliding
across lanes, and Joe muttered, “This
isn’t good.” At that point, I began to wonder if my dream was
going to end up a nightmare. Fortunately, Joe was more concerned
about our safety than making a timely delivery and took his time. We
experienced several near misses as cars, trucks, and busses spun around
the now-covered interstate – my guardian angel was working overtime.

The first passenger was dropped off at his destination three hours into the
normally twenty-minute drive. We weren’t even in D.C.
yet. I made the mistake of bringing up politics and unfortunately,
Joe was quite liberal-minded. Some interesting dialog commenced for
about forty-five minutes, and it started getting a little “heated.” I knew if it continued, Joe might
lose focus on the road. A rather genius idea (if I say so myself) to
squelch the discussion popped into my head. I pulled out my portable DVD player
and asked the remaining passenger if she would like to watch a movie to
pass the time. She smiled and said, “It would probably be a great
distraction.” Joe said it would be okay as long as we kept the
volume down. I popped in “Gravity,”
even though a disaster movie like “The Day After Tomorrow” or “Avalanche” would
have been more appropriate. By the time Sandra Bullock stood on the beach with her
arms outstretched, we reached my hotel.

Normal travel time from airport to hotel: 39
minutes.

Patti travel time: 5 hours and 30 minutes.

After miraculously surviving the
van ride, I said a prayer of thanks even though I was disappointed it was too
late to meet up with some of my Silent No More sisters and brothers staying at
a different hotel. Along with being disappointed, I was a tad bit
stressed and starving but figured after I checked in, I would take my luggage
to the room then have dinner at the hotel’s restaurant. WRONG Contrary
to the website’s claim of dinner service, the restaurant was only open for
breakfast. The desk agent handed me a few fliers of local places
that “might” deliver under the current weather conditions and sent me on my
way. I made a mental note to mention that in my review on Trip
Advisor.

I took the elevator to my 6th floor room,
and when I opened the door, I
was greeted with a blast of heat and the smell of paint. The hotel
was under renovation which was also not mentioned when I booked the room. At
first,the heat didn’t bother me … I was still chilled, but after a few
minutes, sweat started to bead on my forehead. I wanted to cool the
room down so tried to lower the thermostat. Nothing happened. I
looked for the air conditioning setting … there wasn’t one. No
problem, I’ll just open the window. WRONG The
windows could not be opened. All I could do was turn the system off
completely. As far as the paint fumes...I
just tried not to take any deep breaths. Two more items for Trip
Advisor.

My growling stomach reminded me I needed to
eat. I called a local Pizzeria and praise God, they were close enough to deliver. I placed my order, which would take an hour to deliver then started to unpack. Glancing around the room, I realized something was missing……A COFFEE POT. Noooooo! I
wasn’t aware of that either. For those of you that follow me on Facebook,
you know I cannot function as a stable, pleasant person without
coffee. My review on Trip Advisor was getting longer.

Trying to ignore the anticipated havoc that
will be unleashed on the public sans coffee the next morning, I finished
unpacking, put on my flannel jammies and settled in ... waiting patiently for
the pizza delivery guy to knock on my door. WRONG The
front desk called and said my delivery was in the
lobby. Lobby? I asked the desk agent why it can’t be
delivered to my room and he said it was the restaurant’s policy not to go to
the rooms. My first thought was, am I in a hotel that wasn’t safe
for room delivery?

I was too tired and hungry to plead my
case. Not caring about my appearance, I threw on my jacket over my
jammies and picked up my pizza. Regardless of how angry I was, I did
tip the delivery driver generously … it wasn’t his fault for the lousy
policy…but again, made a mental note for Trip Advisor. I don’t know if the
pizza was good or not. In fact, at that point, even if they had made
the pizza wrong and added much-hated mushrooms and onions, I would have
eaten it.

Stomach full, I was able to calm down and get ready for
some much-needed sleep. By now the room temperature had
dropped a little, and in
time, I was sure it would reach the level of coolness I prefer for slumber. WRONG Remember
when I said I was on the 6th floor? Well, heat
rises…..enough said. I finally fell asleep, on top of the covers,
reminding myself not to breath in the paint fumes too deeply, while mentally outlining my
expanding Trip Advisor review. I convinced myself the next day had to be
better (after I find some coffee). My friend (I call her sis) would
be coming from Stafford, Virginia to join me for the March for Life exhibition
and a pre-march gathering of some of the Silent No More Group.

Thankfully sleep didn’t escape me, but waking up with NO
COFFEE at the ready was excruciating. I settled for a warm Coke ordered
with the prior night’s pizza, praying the caffeine would, at least, be enough
to kick start the day.

Due to the exhausting events the prior evening, I had forgotten to set my Ipad alarm and slept through the morning vigil at the D.C. Planned
Parenthood. I so wanted to stand alongside Father Frank Pavone
and others dedicated to exposing the barbaric and inhumane practices of this
heinous organization. I rolled myself out of bed and showered, praying there
would be hot water and that water would be able to rinse away the
disappointment of missing the vigil. Some good news … the
hotel room did have a blow dryer. I was thinking maybe things were
looking up.

Deciding what to wear was next on the agenda….over-packing
might have prevented me from running out of something, but again, it also gave
me too many options (am I ever satisfied???). I settled on
something warm (duh) and ventured down to the lobby. Still upset about
the restaurant not operating as advertised, I thought a fitting penalty would to not bless them with my presence.
Fortunately, there was a McDonald’s across the street … My favorite fast food
breakfast (Bacon McGriddle) beckoned along with a strong cup of COFFEE!
Once I took a sip of that sweet nectar, I knew the world would be safe from my
wrath for one more day.

A few hours later, I saw my “sis” Sharon through the
hotel room window. Tears welled in my eyes – it had been
too long since our last visit. During a long overdue hug and an apology
for the substandard accommodations, we were off to the March for Life Expo and
Silent No More get-together.

Upon entering the official event hotel, I mentally gave
myself a “Gibbs Slap” for being so frugal … resulting in banishment to a tent
when for $30 more per night I could have had the Taj Mahal.

The Expo was incredible. A huge hall bearing rows
and rows of exhibitor booths. Neither of us had seen so many pro-life
groups represented in one place before. We were like kids in a candy shop
… chatting it up with vendors, gathering books, brochures, and DVDs.
(Heck, I even freed a few moths from my wallet and splurged on a beautiful
rosary.) The mood of attendees can be best described as electric …
sparked by the love for our pre-born and mission to protect them.

Snow covered balcony

After
gathering as much information as possible from

the expo, it was time for the
meet and greet in the Silent No More suite. Janet Morana (Co-founder of Silent
No More and Executive Director of Priests for Life), Georgette Forney (Co-founder of Silent No More and Director of Anglicans for Life) and others from the group
displayed their exemplary hosting talents by putting together a wonderful
spread of snacks and beverages. The suite itself was huge with a
magnificent view and expansive, snow-covered balcony (which was quite useful
--- right Leslie Blackwell? LOL). Seeing the accommodations
resulted in another mental Gibb’s slap, for my penny-pinching ways.

Father Frank, Georgette Forney, Janet Morana

It
was nice to be able to see Father Frank Pavone (National Director of Priests
for Life) again as well as finally see in the flesh, some Silent No More
Regional Coordinators and staff I’d connected with on Facebook as well as
through our monthly conference calls and Google Groups
conversations. These people have been such an inspiration to me and
a guiding force in my desire to do more not only in the Silent No More arena
but also in my parish, diocese, and community.

After the gathering, Sharon and I picked up signs to carry at the March, our treasures from the
expo, said our good-byes and set out to our next destination - Fogo de Chão Brazilian Steakhouse. Sharon lives in Virginia, but she had not done much driving in downtown
D.C. Although we had a navigating system, we were busy catching up
on our lives and talking about the expo and get-together and missed a few
turns, ending up in Southwest rather than Northwest D.C. An hour
later, a few more wrong turns (including one down a one-way street the wrong
way – YIKES), we arrived. The meal was fantabulous (I know … it’s
not in Webster’s dictionary). We enjoyed a variety of salads, sides,
and meats and definitely needed the three
block walk to the parking garage.

We both commented on what a great day it
had been which made dealing with our substandard lodging a little
easier. At least Sharon was smart enough to bring silk
pajamas….they were much cooler than my flannels. She fared much
better in the oven room. I swear, from now on, when referring to these accommodations, I’ll be typing HOTel.

March Day had arrived. Sharon and I didn’t
need to set the alarm, we were jarred from sleep by the sound of drilling and
hammering. For some reason, construction workers doing the HOTel
renovations scheduled an early start. (Trip Advisor will have to
dedicate several pages to my growing list of comments.) We were so
glad it was our last morning at the HOTel from hell. After the March
we would be traveling to the comfort of her and her husband's
(Jeff) home in Virginia.

We donned layers of clothing, readied our gloves, headgear, boots, and signs. I voiced my disdain upon
check-out but did so in a manner that would save me from discussing
it in the confessional. Keep in mind, I hadn't had my coffee yet ...
quite an accomplishment.

In preparation for the impending storm, streets were
already being blocked from parking. The closest we could get to the
Supreme Court was Union Station, a half-mile away. Although the
rally and March started on the grounds of the Washington Monument, Sharon and I
both have hip and leg issues. Instead of marching the estimated two
hours, we volunteered to help others secure the area reserved at the Supreme
Court for the post-march rally and Silent No More testimonies. In
previous years, pro-choice activists attempted to take over the space and
remove signs, equipment, etc.

We were way ahead of schedule which allowed us to check
out the eateries at Union Station for breakfast and of course, coffee. The
station was beautiful and buzzing with activity. We were pleased to
see an abundance of others carrying pro-life signs. After a leisurely
meal, we browsed the shops for a while then proceeded to the taxi stand,
agreeing to take a cab to and from the Supreme Court in order to save our
energy and stay warm as long as possible.

During the budgeting process for the trip, I had factored in taxi fares. What
I didn’t factor in was that because of the storm, a $15.00 each way emergency
surcharge was in effect. The calculator in my head churned out an
estimated $55 for a one-mile round trip ride .... with
tip. Once again I avoided a trip to the confessional by biting my
tongue. But you know what? In all honesty, $55 was a small price to
pay, knowing we would arrive ready, willing and able to do our part for LIFE.

The theme for the March
was “Pro-Life and Pro-Woman Go Hand-in-Hand.” Contrary
to the pro-abort rhetoric, abortion does not empower women at
all. To quote a blog post,
I wrote a few months ago, “To be empowered, a woman needs to be
comfortable in her own skin; confident and at peace. Once a woman has an
abortion, empowerment slowly slips away, leaving nothing but a gaping wound in
her soul, back-filled with pain, self-hatred, guilt, shame, and remorse.”

In front of the Supreme Court
Building, there was a large group of people standing around the area
where Silent No More would offer their testimonies at the end of the
March. A priest led a prayer vigil while a group of approximately 50
pro-choice advocates carried signs such as “Abortion on Demand Without Apology”
and “Stand With Planned Parenthood.” Many
were clad in white pants

stained with red dye while others tried to drown out
the prayers by spewing the typical accusations, via megaphone, that
pro-lifers hate women, don’t care if women die, want to go back to the
back-alley coat hanger abortions, etc. What struck me was the
contrast. On one side was a peaceful, loving, prayerful group and on
the other an aggressive one consumed with hatred and anger, hell bent
on overpowering our words of faith and hope.

After the vigil, Sharon and I were standing near the
podium (guarding it). I carried an “I Regret My Abortion” sign and
Sharon carried “I am a Pro-Life Feminist.” One of the pro-choice
members eyed the signs and approached us. We didn’t want an
altercation, and both held our breath,
waiting for a verbal attack. Surprisingly, the woman was
quite calm and told us God is not against abortion. She started to speak again about how abortion is a right,
etc., and for us to hear her out without being judgmental (that really
seemed to be a huge concern for her). We listened then Sharon smiled and said, “We are not here to judge, and
I want you to know I love you.” The woman looked puzzled and said,
“How can you love me, you don’t even know me.” I turned to her and
said, “And God loves you.” She backed away with no response. She
carried a sign with a verse from the Bible: Genesis 2:7 “And
the LORD God formed man out of the dust of the ground and breathed into his
nostrils the breath of life and man became a living
soul.” In other words, a baby isn’t a baby until it takes a breath.
Pretty far reaching, desperate and sad that pro-aborts think
that God's creation of Adam proves a baby is not a person until
it is born.

The snow was getting heavier, and marchers gathered for the closing rally. The pro-choicers were still trying (unsuccessfully) in their attempt to drown out the Silent No More testimonies, but as the weather worsened, they left. The Marchers remained and the Silent No More testimonies continued.

Prior to giving testimonies.Me, Laura Brown, Kelly Lang, Leslie Blackwell, Mary Kominsky, Jacquie Stalnaker So proud of and inspired by all who spoke.

Giving My Testimony

﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿

﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿The weather continued to deteriorate as the testimonies
ended. Sharon and I walked to the nearest large street to search out
a cab. Nary one to be found. So – we braced ourselves for
the half-mile walk to Union Station. Here I was, a San Diegan,
walking through a blizzard with snow-covered glasses (why haven’t they invented
wipers yet?) and frozen feet (boots can only stay warm for so long). My
mind wandered to a movie my husband and I watched a week prior to the trip,
“Everest.” I could see Sharon,
and I like two of the climbing
casualties, curled up in a ball frozen stiff in a snow drift.

﻿﻿

﻿We finally made it to Union Station and stood in the expansive lobby for a
minute or two to take in

the warmth and catch our breath. Knowing
the roads were getting more dangerous by the minute, we needed to get moving or
be stranded in D.C. indefinitely. I braced myself for another
five-hour drive (normal time was forty-five minutes), but road crews were all
over the place, trying to get salt put down. It did take us longer
than usual, but we only slid a few times and made it home before dark, praise
God. We were greeted by Jeff and three precious furbabies –
Winston, Jacob, and Reba, reminding me of how much I missed my own
husband and critters. Exhausted by the day’s events and drive, it didn’t
take long to retire for the night. How nice it was to have quiet,
cool room to sleep in.

Snow in Stafford, VA

The next morning I glanced out the window and was
awestruck by the amount of snow on the ground. Roads were closed, and school closures were already being
announced for the coming week which gave me pause as to if I was going to be
able to fly out on Tuesday. I showered, and it was then I discovered a nasty bruise on my
toe. At first, I foolishly thought it was frostbite – mentally
preparing myself for it falling off. What actually happened was my
boot creased wrong on the trek back to Union Station.﻿

My "Sis" Sharon and "Bro" Jeff

The weather and my sore toe failed to deter us from
enjoying our time together. There were movies to watch, Wii bowling
and many long discussions on a variety of topics. By Monday, the
roads improved enough for us to venture out for breakfast and a drive around
the area. Although I missed my family, I was enjoying the time with my “sis” and “bro,” secretly hoping I might be delayed a few
more days.

Tuesday rolled around, and
my flight was on schedule and the roads to the airport clear … DRAT! After a tearful good-bye, I entered the
terminal. Before checking in, I felt the “urge” and found the
restroom. Not having an internal GPS, I turned right instead of left upon
exiting the facilities, walking for miles on end (well, that’s a stretch) with
a sore toe before realizing I was on the wrong side of the terminal for my
airline. Since I was unable to do any souvenier shopping
earlier, I had wanted to grab a few things from the airport gift shop but time
was slipping away. I finally found my airline and checked in, and
waited impatiently to clear security. As I reached

the checkpoint, they had one of those glass tube x-ray
machines. I walked in, raised my arms waited to be motioned
through. WRONG I was pulled aside for a
pat-down. My glittered shirt lit up the security screen like a
Christmas tree. Tick, tock, tick, tock. My shopping time
was diminishing.

With minutes to spare, I located the nearest gift
shop. I snagged some t-shirts and coffee cups, paid the bill and
rushed to my gate. From a distance, a voice bellowed….
“Ma’am! Ma’am!”. I ignored it, but as
it got closer, I turned around. A woman panted,
“Did you just leave the gift shop?” I nodded. “You left
your wallet.” I looked into my purse, and my heart sank. She sprinted with me back to the shop,
and yes, indeed, it was
mine. I thanked her and the clerk a gazillion times before
sprinting back to the gate where the plane was boarding. WHEW!

The flight to San Francisco was uneventful (thank God), and I was able to stretch out a little due to
an empty seat between another passenger and me. In fact, we
gave each other a thumb’s up as the plane pulled
back. The three-hour layover in San Francisco gave me adequate
time to go outside for fresh air and pick up a loaf of sourdough bread (my
husband’s favorite). I chose to sit outside (sans jacket), bask in
the warm sun, read a little and enjoy an iced coffee. All was right
with the world. Of course, going back through security resulted in
another pat-down with that darned shirt.

That’s it, folks … I boarded the flight to San
Diego and was met by my loving husband. My dogs jumped all over me
when I walked in the door but gave me a betrayed look after taking a
few whiffs of my jeans ... bearing the scent of Winston, Jacob, and Reba.

I want to take a few moments to share a few

thoughts on
the March:

First off, according to mainstream media, a “small” group
braved the blizzard. Below is a picture of the small group:

Secondly, I want to comment on the number of young people
who participated. Although I don’t know the percentage of
youth vs. adults, it would suffice to say the term pro-life
generation is right on target.

Last, but not least, many had to turn around and miss the
March, and though disappointed, they
should know we felt their presence. Others were stranded in D.C. and
on highways after the March including some of my friends from Silent No
More. I want to thank God for getting everyone home safely.

It was an experience of a lifetime, but I hope and pray the next time I visit D.C.
it will not be to bring attention to the devastation of abortion but to
celebrate the end of it with the reversal of Roe v Wade.

Monday, January 8, 2018

January is Respect Life Month. Why? Because
it was in January 1973 that Roe v Wade passed and legalized abortion.

To put the devastation of this law into
perspective:

This month, I am honored to be speaking at the Walk for Life in Hemet, CA (January 20th) and the West Coast Walk for Life in San Francisco (January 27th). Preparing for these events always reminds me of
something that happened while attending the West Coast Walk for Life a few
years ago. After giving our testimonies at the pre-walk rally, my
friend Leslie and I were asked if we would be willing to join in a
panel discussion on Immaculate Heart Radio and talk about life before, but most
importantly, after our abortions. After the
segment finished, a priest on the panel thanked us for having
the courage to tell our stories in front of so many people let alone to a national radio audience. Others have made similar comments, and
some have even asked me if I get embarrassed because my past is consumed by so
many ugly excesses.

I'm not courageous by any means. I'm a nervous wreck when speaking.
I've considered backing out on several occasions, but God is quite
persuasive. He has called me to share because, unfortunately, there are many
women out there just like me. It's an opportunity to reach out to them
and give them comfort knowing they are not alone and no matter how bad they
think they are ... nothing is unforgivable in God's eyes. As far as being ashamed or embarrassed … Yes I was - but
found the more I shared my past, I realized it was a blessing. As a
caterpillar morphs into a beautiful butterfly, evil miraculously emerges as
good. God saved me from total self-destruction for a reason. He's using
me, as well as all my Silent No More sisters and brothers, to not only speak out for life but also be beacons
of hope for those who have had or encouraged abortions - guiding them towards healing.